One Big Happy Weasley Family
by keeptheotherone
Summary: A collection of unrelated drabbles and one-shots featuring various combinations of Weasley boys (and yes, occasionally Harry). Rating and genre will fluctuate. No slash.
1. Mischief Managed

A/N: *waves with both hands* Hellooo, everyone! My beta and I had a conversation several months ago in which I joked that all I needed to do to overcome writer's block was to write a Weasley boys scene, and maybe I would stop trying to write a story that actually made sense and just write random events involving our six (yes, six!) favorite gingers. She thought it an excellent idea, I thought it a load of fun, and here we are. Harry will feature occasionally; I sometimes think he was more of a Weasley than Ginny was a Potter ;) This is going to be a sort of mental dumping ground in which I deposit snippets of ideas too short for their own story or scenes I wrote for another fic that got cut for whatever reason, so don't expect anything cohesive: unrelated one-shots and drabbles are the name of the game. I also do not promise internal consistency as little details in my head canon often change, not to mention that some ideas that don't fit canon (head or otherwise) are too good to pass up. The bad news: No weekly updates. The good news: If I have something, I won't wait for Wednesday ;) Also, I feel obliged to say the rating will vary, so please watch the updates if that matters to you. Enjoy!

* * *

_Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Summer 1995_

"Where's Moony?"

Fred and George looked up from their parchment. Sirius had just walked into the kitchen, where they sat at the table writing ad copy for the Skiving Snackboxes.

"Who?" The brothers wore identical looks of confusion.

"Right here, Padfoot." Lupin emerged from the pantry with a tin of biscuits.

Fred and George looked at each other.

"Wait a minute," Fred said. "'Messieurs _Moony_, Wormtail—'"

"'_Padfoot_, and Prongs—'"

Sirius and Lupin grinned.

"'Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers—'" George continued.

"Are proud to present—'"

"'The Marauder's Map'!"

"I _knew_ it was you!" Lupin looked absolutely delighted. "I _knew_ you must have been the ones to find the Map. See, Padfoot, I told you someone would find it and put it to good use."

"No way," George whispered, staring at his old professor. "No way!"

"Believe it, mate," Sirius said, taking the tin from Lupin and helping himself to Mrs. Weasley's cinnamon biscuits.

"You wrote the Marauder's Map?" Fred said.

"We did," Lupin confirmed, sitting down beside Sirius and gathering his own collection of biscuits. Fred and George were too fascinated by this revelation to be distracted, even by their mother's excellent baking.

"How did you know we found the Map?" George said.

"After I confiscated it from Harry—"

"You took it from him?" Sirius said. "Harry has more right to the Map than anyone!"

"It was last year, Sirius, when everyone, including I, thought you were a mass murderer bent on adding Harry to your list of victims. I did it for his safety and that of everyone in the school."

"And?" Fred prompted.

"Well, after I had some time to think about it, I reckoned you two were more likely to be in Filch's office, and more likely to investigate his Confiscated and Highly Dangerous drawer, than Harry. He generally disregards rules for a very good reason, while you two—"

"Do it just for fun," George said, grinning.

"Exactly," Lupin said dryly.

"Why does Harry have more right to the Map than anyone?" Fred said.

Siruis's mouth was full, so Lupin answered for him. "Because Sirius is his godfather, and Prongs was his dad."

"You knew Harry's dad?"

"And Lily," Lupin said quietly. "We were in the same year at Hogwarts. We were best friends, James and Sirius and I."

"And Peter," Sirius said bitterly. "Don't forget Wormtail, that rat."

Lupin shot him a sharp glance—the boys didn't need to know they were Animagi—but Sirius apparently referred to the metaphorical meaning.

"Peter Pettigrew?" Fred said. "The one who betrayed Harry's parents to You-Know-Who?"

"Someone's been listening in on Order meetings," Lupin said, trying for a disapproving tone, but the twins just grinned back at him.

"Why did you take the Map from Harry?" Sirius repeated, still put out.

"I gave it back to him at the end of the year, but I had to take it because Severus found him with it. I don't know how he found out, but he called Harry to his office and must have made him turn out his pockets, because the map, a Zonko's bag, and a collection of sweets were all on his desk when I arrived. He thought I had given the map to Harry."

"Why would he think that?" George said.

"Because Snape was in our year too, and knew the nicknames we had for each other," Sirius said.

Fred and George looked horrified. "Harry didn't wipe the map? We told him to always wipe it!"

Lupin snickered. "Oh, he wiped it. Snape tried to figure out how to work it."

Fred and George laughed, remembering how the map had responded to their first attempts.

Sirius gave his bark-like laugh. "Oh, please tell me it said something about his nose."

"And his hair, and his intelligence—or lack thereof."

They laughed again.

"We always wanted to meet you," Fred said, a touch of awe in his voice. "I can't believe we actually have."

Sirius preened, but Lupin just smiled modestly.

"Yeah, this is great," George enthused. "Next time Mum's mad at us for eavesdropping on the Order, we'll just tell her you're the reason behind all those letters from McGonagall!"

Lupin choked on a biscuit, and even Sirius looked alarmed as Fred and George's mad laughter echoed off the old stone walls.


	2. Ron's Got Good Taste

A/N: A little missing moment from _Goblet of Fire_, when all the boys are home for the Quidditch World Cup. And a disclaimer: neither the Weasley boys nor anything else you recognize from _Harry Potter _is mine, instead belonging to the fabulous J. K. Rowling.

* * *

_The Burrow_

_August 1994 _

_Very early morning_

Hermione padded barefoot across the moonlit kitchen floor. She had just poured herself a glass of water and was about to take a drink when an emerald-green glow lit the room with a _whoosh_. She spun around in time to see Ron's oldest brother, Bill, unfolding his tall frame from the fireplace.

Hermione's heart rate kicked up.

"Oh, hello, Hermione."

"Hi," she squeaked, backing into a corner and tugging the hem of her t-shirt down in an effort to cover more of herself. She hadn't bothered with trousers, and of course she wasn't wearing a bra. He couldn't tell she wasn't wearing a bra, could he?

Bill waved his wand and lit the lamp hanging over the kitchen table. "You can use your wand for simple spells. Your Trace won't register in a wizarding house." He smiled kindly at her.

Since this only increased his physical appeal, it also increased Hermione's nerves. "I—I just wanted a glass of water. I didn't think anyone else would be up."

"I met some friends for a drink."

Hermione's eyes slid to the clock on the wall, which read "time for bed."

Bill followed her gaze and raised one eyebrow. "Keeping tabs on me?"

"No! No, I just—I woke up, and I couldn't go back to sleep, and—"

He laughed. "I'm teasing, Hermione."

"Oh. Sorry." She felt her face grow hot and stared at the floor, maintaing the death grip on her t-shirt, wishing she were wearing an honest-to-goodness nightdress instead of a plain tee that barely covered her bum.

Hermione looked up through her lashes. Bill had rested one hip on a corner of the table, and the light gleamed off his fang earring. Dressed in Muggle jeans and a button-down over a snug black t-shirt, with his long hair pulled back in a ponytail, he looked—he looked—_hot. _

"Can I give you a bit of friendly advice?"

She nodded, focusing on the table leg in front of her.

"You, uh, might want to make sure you're dressed whenever you're not in Ginny's room. With seven wizards in this house, odds are pretty good you'll run into one of us. Even at night."

Hermione squirmed and tried to make herself smaller, hunching over and crossing one leg in front of the other so that her feet overlapped. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's just me and my parents at home, and…." She shrugged and one sleeve slipped over her shoulder. Now he would know she wasn't wearing a bra. She freed one hand from the t-shirt's hem and pulled the shirt back in place.

"Oh, I'm not complaining," he said.

Hermione heard the smile in his voice and raised her head. He was looking at her bare legs.

"Ron's got good taste." Bill winked, pushed off the table, and left the room.

Wait, what did that mean? What did that _mean_?


	3. Lunch at the Ministry

A/N: Bill's such a good POV character. *sigh* Think of Audrey's job as homeschooling done by someone other than a mother rather than teaching at a proper school.

* * *

_Spring 2000_

Bill pushed open the door of Percy's office in the Department of Magical Transportation. "Hey, Perce, get your nose out of that report, and let's go to lunch."

But Percy's nose wasn't buried in a report; it was pointed at the attractive woman sitting on the corner of his desk. Five foot eight—maybe nine, judging by the length of shapely calf extending below the hem of her robes, which had bunched underneath her as she sat—and slim, with dark hair and delicate hands.

"Oh, pardon me. I didn't realize you had company."

The two had not noticed him enter and spun around at the sound of his voice. Bill suppressed the urge to smirk.

"My apologies," the woman said, standing up and smoothing down her robes. "I didn't realize Percy already had plans for lunch."

"He didn't. I volunteered to pick up the payroll forms and thought I'd stop in and see if he was free." Bill sent his brother an inquisitive look. _Introduce her, or I'll say something embarrassing._

Percy gave a small sigh that was more visible than audible. "Audrey, this is my brother Bill, who works for Gringotts. This is Audrey Cooper. She and her students toured the department last week, and she came by to drop off their thank-you notes." He indicated a collection of scrawled letters and crayon drawings spread out over his desk.

"Nice to meet you," Audrey said, extending her hand.

Bill shook it. "Likewise. Listen, I didn't mean to interrupt—"

"I should probably get back anyway. My assistant will not appreciate being left alone for recess." She smiled, then turned back to Percy and said, "Thanks again, Percy. The kids loved it."

"You're very welcome. Anytime." He stood and opened the door for her, then closed it and returned to his desk, gathering the kids' papers into a pile.

"That's it?"

"What do you mean?" Percy tapped the edges of the papers to straighten them, avoiding Bill's eyes.

"An attractive unmarried witch leaves her job in the middle of the day and travels from—"

"How do you know she's not married?"

Merlin, no wonder Percy had been single so long. "She wasn't wearing a ring, Perce. And she traveled from—"

"Leeds," he muttered.

"All the way from Leeds to deliver a package she could have sent by owl post, and you're not going to invite her to lunch?" Bill took the papers out of Percy's hands and dragged him towards the door.

"Wait, I need to tell Madame Edgecombe—"

"It's 11:53. It's obvious where you've gone. Why didn't you ask her out? And don't tell me you're not interested."

"She said she had to get back," Percy said defensively. "She's a teacher. It's a school day."

"Rubbish. If she didn't want to have lunch with you, she would have come after school let out. She fancies you."

"Don't be ridiculous." He jabbed the button for the lift.

"It's been almost two years, Percy," Bill said quietly. "No one would begrudge you some happiness."

The lift doors opened, and Percy's cold look was cut short as a plump witch carrying several broomsticks wedged her way out of the lift, and he and Bill stepped in.

They joined the queue in front of one of the fireplaces in the Atrium. Percy appeared to be casually scanning the crowd, but then his attention focused.

Audrey was in line two fireplaces down, head bent and fiddling with the cuffs on her sleeves.

"Why did the kids love their visit?"

"Hmm?"

"Unlike you, most children do not find the Ministry of Magic fascinating. What did you do?"

"Oh. I arranged for them to Portkey to the cafeteria for their lunch."

"Cool," Bill said, impressed. Percy really wasn't half-bad when he tried. They shuffled forward.

"What makes you think she fancies me?"

"Other than leaving her students in the middle of a school day?"

He nodded, still watching her.

"She was sitting on your desk."

"So?"

"So, Fleur used to do that all the time."

Percy finally looked at him, then back to the other fireplace. Audrey was next in line.

"Audrey! Audrey, wait up!"


	4. Daughters Are the Best Revenge

_August 2023_

Harry and Arthur sat at the front of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, waiting on Ginny and Molly.

"Do you remember when I took Ginny into London without telling anyone we were staying the night?"

"Vividly."

"Well, I'm really, _really_, very sincerely, truly and deeply sorry."

"Lily?" Arthur said, amused.

"Lily," Harry sighed. He was looking across the street at his daughter, who was in line at the ice cream parlor. From the looks of things, she would not be buying her own sundae.

"Who's that with her?"

"No idea. It's been like this all summer—everywhere we go, she's surrounded by boys. I've tried sending Al or James with her, but—"

"She has this way of manipulating her brothers."

Harry nodded, still watching the scene across the street. From the way she was standing, he thought Lily favored the dark-haired boy on her right, but then she laughed and gave the tall boy a playful slap.

"She looks like she's just having fun," Arthur observed.

Harry made a low noise in his throat.

"Does she talk about anyone in particular?"

"Alex Wood has spent a lot of time at my house this summer." Harry scowled and crossed his arms at the thought.

"Alex has always visited during the summer. He and Lily have been friends for years."

Harry turned away from the window long enough to give his father-in-law an incredulous look. "Have you met Ron and Hermione?"

Arthur laughed.

"It's not funny," Harry grumbled, returning his attention to his daughter and her admirers.

"On the contrary, Harry, from where I'm sitting, it's hilarious."

The teenagers had reached the window now, and as Lily gave her order, the two boys argued in gestures behind her. Tall Boy won out, handing his money to the clerk. Lily gave him a radiant smile.

"I have half a mind to go over there and—"

"And what? Steal their ice cream?"

Harry watched the boys watch his daughter as Lily licked the edge of the cone, trying to keep it from melting onto her hand.

"The worst part is, I can't even really hate them. I almost feel a little sorry for them because—"

"She reminds you so much of her mother, and you remember how fascinating and irresistible _she_ was," Arthur said.

"Exactly," Harry said, relieved that at last Arthur understood. Then he remembered Ginny was Arthur's daughter, which meant— "Wait, what?"

"Daughters, Harry. Wish them daughters. It's the best revenge a father could hope for."


	5. I Want to Marry Her

A/N: Heads up for a rating shift.

* * *

_March 2006_

_The Royal George_

I ordered a drink at the bar and, after scanning the room and determining George wasn't here yet, took a seat in a nearby booth. The Muggle pub just off Charing Cross Road and around the corner from The Leaky Cauldron had become a favorite of Ron, Harry, and Hermione after the war since they could hang out without the unwanted attention they drew in Diagon Alley. Over the years it had become a convenient meeting place for conversations we didn't want printed in the gossip magazines.

I frowned at my watch. I should have known George would be late; he had to close up shop. I was on my second ale and wishing I had stayed to read to the kids when he appeared.

"Sorry I'm late. I had to—"

"Close up shop."

"Yeah."

George wrestled with his coat in the narrow confines of the booth, and I took the opportunity to study my younger brother. He looked tense, his movements jerky and impatient, and the fine lines that had appeared prematurely around his eyes were more pronounced than usual. His owl had said it was urgent, and my curiosity as to why he had asked to meet me, when he usually sought out Charlie or Ron for advice, morphed into concern.

"How's business?" I said once the waitress had taken George's order and left again.

"Business is good." George seemed relieved not to have to delve into the problem immediately and relayed a few highlights from the Hogwarts' pupils last visit to the Hogsmeade shop.

I swiped a few chips from George's plate. I'd eaten dinner with Fleur and the kids, but … it was chips.

"How's Angelina?"

George took one bite of his sandwich, then another, stalling for time. But I had learned decades ago that the best way to get George to confess was simply to wait. As the silence stretched through chewing and swallowing, I began to suspect what the problem was and why George was talking to me, the longest-married Weasley. Well, other than Mum and Dad, obviously.

Finally, after two chips and a drink, George answered. "She's pregnant."

"That's—not great?" I tempered my enthusiasm at my brother's dark look.

"It's not great timing, that's for certain."

George and Angelina weren't married. "Are you worried about Mum? She'll rant for a while, but—"

"No, you prat, I'm worried about Angie."

"Is she sick?" Fleur had been sicker than shit the first few months with Victoire and Dominique.

"I don't know. She left for a weekend with Katie, and I haven't seen her since."

Today was Wednesday. I sat back. This was not good. Pregnant women were tetchy, and if George had made some flippant remark…. "What did you say when she told you?"

"She didn't."

"Then how—"

"Because I can count," he snapped. "And the dates fit." His ear turned red.

Maybe George and Angelina were living together more than anyone realized, despite the separate flats. "All right. Let's say she's pregnant. What are you going to do?"

George fiddled with his coaster, using the condensation from the empty glass to pick it up off the table. "I want to marry her."

"I—come again?" I hadn't expected him to be so blunt.

"I want to marry her," he said defiantly. "I've been thinking about it for a while, but I haven't said anything because—well, things are good the way they are—or at least they were—but if I ask her now, she'll think it's on account of her being pregnant and she'll say no."

This was definitely not a conversation for Charlie. I was still gathering my thoughts when George spoke again.

"How did you ask Fleur?"

"On the beach by moonlight. I don't recommend proposing in the dark, though. Fumbled the ring taking it out of the box and had to summon the bloody thing. Wait—do you have a ring?" Birds always took you seriously if you had a ring. Not that I'd proposed to anyone but Fleur, but … I did know women. At least as much as a bloke could.

George shrugged, now spinning his glass in circles.

"What does that mean?"

"Been looking. Sort of," he mumbled.

I raised one eyebrow, impressed. "How the hell have you managed to look at rings without it being splashed all over the papers?"

"Went to Lee's house. Swore him to secrecy."

It would help if your best mate's family owned a jewelry store. I'd bought Fleur's ring from Jordan's.

"There you go."

George looked up, brow furrowed.

"Buy the ring, propose, and when she says she doesn't want you to feel obligated, you can pledge your undying love and say you planned it all before she got pregnant. Lee and Mr. Jordan will back you up. You do love her, right?"

I actually had no doubts about this, nor Angelina's feelings either. She had been the only one George had let close after Fred's death, the one who made him smile again, and only someone who really loved him would have put up with half the shit he put her through. George was right, things had been good between them for a while, even if Mum did more than hint about marriage and Angelina looked a bit wistful whenever someone handed her a baby.

"I do, but … a baby?" George had the same half-scared, half-hopeful expression he'd worn when Mum and Dad had announced the family's visit to Egypt. As if it were too good to be true.

"That baby is your responsibility regardless of what happens between you and Angelina," I said firmly, unable to resist the lecture. "She deserves to be loved and to have her father in her life."

"I do love her! Him. It. You think it's a girl?"

I smiled at the wonder in his voice. Well I remembered that feeling, the sheer awe at the idea I'd helped create a new life.

"After five nieces, George, I'd say the odds are against you."

"Should I tell her?"

"What?"

"Angelina. Should I tell her I know about the baby?" His voice was hushed, almost reverent. Somehow during the course of this conversation, he had moved from "Angelina's pregnant" to "the baby."

I finished off my drink, considering. "How far along is she?"

"How should I know?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're the one who said you could count."

"Oh." He frowned, his gaze shifting out of focus. "Maybe six weeks?"

So, not Christmas or New Year's then. I had wondered, given that he seemed to know when the baby was conceived.

"Six weeks is pretty early. Give her a little longer to tell you. Maybe that's what she's doing at her friend's house, working up the courage."

"Why would she need courage for that?"

Poor kid. Good thing she'd grow up surrounded by intelligent, capable uncles and aunts when she had a dunderhead for a dad.

"You and Angelina ever talk about having kids? Settling down, finding a nice place together? Ever lie in bed in the middle of the night, arguing about baby names and whether she'd have ginger hair, or he'd have her eyes?"

George looked a little pale.

"She doesn't know how you're going to react, George. I'm guessing she can figure out, from your popularity as an uncle, that you'll want the baby, but she needs to know that you want _her_."

He looked paler still. "You don't think she would—that she's gone to—"

"You know better than that. Weren't you paying attention last year, when James and Rose and Lucy were born? Dead jealous, she was."

"You think—you think I should wait for her to tell me then?"

"At least wait until she comes back."

He was quiet for a few moments, and when he did speak, his voice was so low that I nearly had to read his lips. "What if she doesn't come back?"

I shoved the dishes to the side and leaned forward. "Do you love her?" I asked again.

He nodded.

"Even without the baby? If it turns out she's not pregnant, or Merlin forbid, something's gone wrong?"

He nodded again. "Yes. I want to be with Angelina. I want to marry her."

"Then if she doesn't come home, you go get her and bring her home. Buy the ring, George. Take her someplace special. Start looking for a flat that's bigger than a puffskein cage."

He gripped the edges of the table, looking more lost than I had seen him since right after Fred's death. "You really think I can do this?"

"Are you my brother or not?"

* * *

a/n: I've always thought George and Angelina were together for a long time before they were _officially_ together and were the last to marry. George, Angelina, Fred II, and Roxanne are the only Weasley family not mentioned in the epilogue, and I have interpreted this to mean Fred and Roxanne were too young for Hogwarts. Also, there really is a pub called the Royal George off Charing Cross Road (according to Google, at least). I was looking for inspiration for pub names and knew I'd get a huge list if I googled "london pubs," so I put in the street name. I might have skipped over it if I weren't writing about George at the time, but, well...


	6. Defending the Family

A/N: This is a couple of short scenes that were cut from my story "Auror Take Two," which is a sequel to "Consequences." Those of you who have read ATT will recognize a little dialogue, but I left it in to help make this read more smoothly as an outtake, although it's still a bit abrupt. It's more of a Weasley/Potter family than a Weasley boys piece, but...

* * *

_July 2022_

_Auror Headquarters, Ministry of Magic, London_

Ginny stepped out of the Floo into Harry's office, assured Louise that all was well and thanked her for her assistance, crossed the eerily empty bullpen, greeted Clarke at the conference room door, and pushed it open to find her entire family. No, really, her entire family—only Charlie was absent.

Everyone began talking at once and her head throbbed. Ginny held up a hand and the room quieted. She turned to Hermione, who stood next to the door.

"Ron's fine. They're both fine, the kids are fine, I'm fine. The downstairs is a wreck, and I need a new front door, but we're fine." Looking around the room at her parents, four remaining brothers, their wives, assorted nieces and nephews and some significant others, the magnitude of what happened finally hit her, and she swayed on the spot. Bill leapt up and pushed her into his chair.

"Oh, Merlin," Ginny moaned, propping her head in her hands. Whoever it was that had attacked her and the children, Ron had been frightened enough to pull his entire family into the security of the Ministry. Ginny had never known him to do that, not in twenty-four years. "Oh, Merlin."

Hermione began rubbing her back. "Yeah, it scared the magic out of us, too. Who was it?"

Ginny shook her head. "I don't know. There were five of them, big, ugly, and mean. They came in firing killing curses, and all three kids were home. All my babies were in the house…."

Bill set a glass of water in front of her and Ginny closed both hands around it. She was trembling so hard the water sloshed.

"What happened?"

"I stunned them. I would have killed the last one—he was going after James—but I was afraid I would miss and hit him instead and—"

Suddenly her mum was there, pulling Ginny against her shoulder and stroking her hair away from her face like when she was a child.

"You did the right thing," Molly said firmly. "You and your children are all alive because you did the right thing and defended your family."

There was a chorus of agreement all around the table, and Ginny allowed herself to be passed from person to person. She was at the back of the room, peering over Audrey's shoulder at the notice board, when she saw them. All five intruders were on the Ministry's Most Wanted list. Oh, Harry owed her big time!

()()()()

"Everything all right, Weasley?"

Ron grinned. "Harry's already taking some ribbing about his wife catching more dark wizards in one day than he's done in the last six months, and I'm going to spend the weekend working for my sister, but yeah. Everybody's fine." He extended his hand to Clarke. "Thanks for looking after my family. How's Hermione?"

"Docile as a lamb once I gave the code phrase, but I did reactivate the anti-Apparition wards. I reckoned you and Potter would be less angry if you couldn't get in than you would be if I let her get out."

No one was supposed to be able to Apparate in or out of the Ministry except in the designated section of the Atrium, but one of the first changes Harry made after his promotion was to modify the wards on his office. It was supposed to be a secret, but when Ron had been injured several years ago and they sent a rookie to notify Hermione, she'd obediently followed the man back to Harry's office and then promptly Disapparated straight to St. Mungo's. Harry had modified the wards to exclude everyone but himself and Ron and placed the rookie on desk duty for a month.

"Smart move. Go ahead and change the wards, and then you can go home. Thanks again, John."

"Of course, sir. Good luck," Clarke said, and opened the door.

"Ron!" Hermione threw her arms around his neck, then pounded her fist on his chest. "He dies in that movie, you prat!"

"What?"

"McMurphy, at the end of _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest._ He dies."

"But Clarke said you didn't give him any trouble once he mentioned the code phrase." Why did she have to do this now, in front of his entire family? And why couldn't they at least pretend not to be listening?

"Well, it's not his fault you're a prat. And I thought if there was something wrong, you wouldn't have given a phrase at all."

Ron framed her face in his hands and kissed her quickly. "Thanks. It helps me when I know you're safe."

She reached up and squeezed his wrists. "I remember."

Reluctantly, Ron let go of his wife, then turned to his sister. "You okay, sprite?"

Ginny stepped into his hug. "Fine. How're the kids? Harry practically shoved me in the Floo."

"They're a little shook up. Lily's tagging pretty close, and the boys are letting her. Harry sent me to send you back. You need to give a statement."

Ginny wrinkled her nose but said her goodbyes and left the room.

"Has anybody Floo-called Charlie yet?"


	7. Godparents

_April 2008_

"Harry?"

"Uh." Ginny had turned the lights off several minutes ago, and he was almost asleep.

"I know who I want for the baby's godfather."

He grunted, then flinched when a sharp finger poked between his spine and shoulder blade. "What?" he said irritably, rolling onto his back and looking towards his wife. "Can't we talk about this tomorrow?"

"It is tomorrow," Ginny said, apparently wide awake.

"Which is why I want to talk about it tomorrow," Harry grumbled. "When it's light outside," he added for clarification.

Ginny lit the bedside lamp, and Harry turned away from her with a groan, throwing one arm over his eyes.

"Now it's light inside," she said brightly.

Pregnancy did strange things to women, Harry had learned, and the worst part of it was, those strange things were different every time. Despite being only two months away from the birth of his third child, he had yet to find a better strategy for dealing with a pregnant Ginny than "just do whatever the hell she wants."

So he lowered his arm a fraction, gathered his patience, and said, "Who?"

Choosing godparents for their first child had been easy. Even the second set had been relatively smooth. But this time … barring any surprises, this would be their last baby, and both Harry and Ginny were struggling with the finality of knowing that whoever they chose left everyone else out for good.

"Percy," Ginny said with satisfaction.

Harry dropped his arm completely.

"I know he's not your favorite of my brothers, and I know there was that thing during your fifth year, but he _is_ my brother, and no one has chosen him yet."

"What?" Harry didn't know if it was the time of night—or morning—or Al's recent shrieking, but Ginny's words didn't make sense.

"Percy," she said. "No one has chosen him for godfather."

Given the plethora of Weasley grandchildren, it seemed implausible that any of the brothers had been left out, but as Harry ran down the list in his head, he realized it was true.

"Oliver did, and Audrey's sister chose both of them, but Percy hasn't been chosen by anyone in the family. He was always good to me, and I know it would mean a lot to him coming from you."

Harry hesitated. This was a touchy subject, but it had to be addressed. "He wasn't always good to you."

Ginny crossed her arms over her ample bosom. "That wasn't about me, that was about—other stuff. And it wasn't just me, either, it was all of us. When we were growing up, Percy had time for me when the others told me to go away, and he's good with Molly and Lucy. You know he is."

That Percy was a doting and involved father could not be denied. If Harry, as the father of two boys, considered him rather overprotective and paranoid, well … that wasn't such a bad quality in a godfather, he reckoned.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" Because if it was a one a.m. brainwave, he was going back to sleep.

"Almost a week," Ginny said triumphantly. She knew Harry's lack of actual disagreement meant she had already won. Usually she was tactful enough to hide her glee, but unusual behavior for pregnant women was … well, normal.

Harry rolled the idea around in his brain, looking for flaws Ginny would care about.

"What about George? You don't think it will hurt his feelings?"

"George didn't expect any of us to choose him. He told Ron ages ago."

Harry didn't question the veracity of this statement; Ginny had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly how to weasel information from each of her brothers, and Ron was the easiest.

"I thought you wanted Luna to be godmother."

"I do."

"But—" He stared at Ginny's blurry shape sitting up beside him. Percy and Luna—Harry's brain screeched to a halt again, refusing to process further. This was a strangeness that could not be explained, not even by the sizable baby bump at eye level. Harry groped for his glasses.

Ginny sat up in bed with her legs crossed, an old Gryffindor t-shirt forced up by the curve of her abdomen. He looked up past the strip of creamy, freckled skin, past the swollen bust stretching the faded fabric, past a playful smile and into dancing eyes, and understood. His mischievous wife wasn't being as thoughtful of her big brother as it seemed.

"Percy and Luna?" Harry repeated, just to be sure.

"They'll balance each other nicely, don't you think?"

"I don't think _nicely_ is the word I would use," Harry said, and Ginny laughed.


	8. The Green and Pink Package

A/N: At this rate I'm going to have to change the summary to read "any random member of the Weasley family" rather than "the Weasley boys (and yes, occasionally Harry)." This was a snippet cut from my WIP, **Misbehavior Number 101**, specifically chapter fifteen.

* * *

_Wednesday morning_

_Auror Headquarters_

_London, England_

Harry reread the last paragraph of Ginny's letter.

_I need you to do me a favor—I got up here without any pads. Look in the cabinet under our bathroom sink, on the left hand side. See the green and pink package? Buy another package just like that and send it to Hogwarts. Today._

_All my love,_

_Ginny_

Harry frowned. Lily's owl, Mona, had been waiting when he came downstairs for breakfast this morning, but he hadn't opened Ginny's letter until after he got out of his seven a.m. meeting. Meaning he was already at work, had no idea what said green and pink package looked like, and did not want to go home, shopping, home again to send the package with Mona, and back to work in the middle of the day. So, Harry did what he always did when he didn't know the answer.

He found Hermione in the law library, nearly obscured by the books piled around her. It took three tries to get her attention.

"Do you know what this is?" Harry thrust the last page of Ginny's letter under Hermione's nose.

Hermione pushed his wrist away to bring the letter into focus, then beamed. "Lily started her period!"

"What!" Harry gasped, scanning the letter again. How could he have missed that? "It doesn't say that! Where does it say that?"

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said, shifting books around until she found the one she wanted, a large, leather-bound tome that was too big for her to lift with one hand. "Ginny wouldn't have forgotten supplies if her period was due. And if she did, she'd just go into Hogsmeade and buy them herself."

"Do you know what this green and pink package is?"

"Of course, it's—"

Harry cut her off. "Can you get one for me?" He gave her his best "I'm just a bloke please take pity on me" look.

She sighed. "I could, but—"

"Please, Hermione? I don't know what I'm looking for, and I don't want to get the wrong thing."

"Why are you just now showing me this?" she said irritably. "Why didn't you take care of it this morning, before you came to work?"

"Because I had a seven a.m. department heads meeting, and I wanted to stop at the bakery first." The bakery Ginny had forbidden him to even walk past after his last physical. He gave Hermione a look that was half-pleading, half-conspiratorial.

"Oh, all right." She sighed again and stood up.

"You're the best, Hermione."

"I'm only going to the shop. I want to finish this brief today, so you'll have to go back home and send it with Mona."

Harry followed her back to her office. "Why can't I just send it with one of the Ministry owls?"

"Because you're not supposed to know. If you send it with one of the Ministry owls, it will be obvious you didn't follow directions—" She looked up from pulling her handbag out of a desk drawer to give him a dirty look. "And Lily will worry that other people saw you."

"But I have things to do too."

"Take it up with Lily," Hermione said.

Harry sighed. Hermione knew he would do no such thing.


End file.
